Once upon a time, in a land far far away, a girl went on a date with some Banker Guy who put her on the train home. Apparently, that train was headed straight to Douchebag Central. I may still be somewhat of a Datable Girl, the guys who actually want to take me out are the biggest dickwads I have ever met. Although there is still hope. There is always hope – and by hope, I mean tequila.

I met a cute guy on Bumble – go figure – and we had a nice conversation. He was funny, confident and wanted to hang out with me. Unfortunately, my weekend was pretty packed so I told him it was too bad he didn’t say anything a little bit earlier as I was free that evening. His answer, ever so elegantly, was: “Oh, that is devo, I could have been dating you right now. And by ‘date’ I mean ‘rough’ and by ‘-ing’ I mean ‘sex’.” He literally said that to me. Exact words. Naturally, as the only sane and appropriate reaction possible, I flushed my phone down the toilet and joined a monastery.

The next awkward encounter was for me to find a guy from work pass by on the app – mind you, he’s really cute, so I thought it would be fun to swipe right on him. It matched. We often talk in the kitchen, so I thought this was more for giggles than for actual dating. I sent him a message saying “Awkwaaaard” – you know, to break the ice and don’t make it weirder than it already is. You know what this guy does? He unmatches me. I shit you not. Thanks, dude, not rude at all. I can’t wait to see him in the kitchen on Monday and make this as uncomfortable as possible.

Fortunately, there was one more guy left. He asked me all the standard questions about where I’m from and what I’m doing here and said he would love for me to take him to my favourite bar. I really liked him, so I would have loved to, were it not that his next question was: “Do you have a cute accent?” I told him I had no idea, and that it were up to him to decide. This dude’s brainfart of a response was: “I don’t know, I can’t hear you.” OF COURSE YOU CAN’T HEAR ME VIA TEXT MESSAGE. I MEANT IN REAL LIFE. I decided not to be too much of a smartass about it and kept the conversation going. Until he asked for my Snapchat. I know. I thought it was over too. Thinking he might just love Snapchat and find it a nice way to communicate, I let him add me. He did and sent me a photo OF HIS FACE. Only his face. No chest, no legs, no fucking dick in sight. I’m as surprised as you are, really. We are supposed to meet up soon. I’ll let you know what he thinks of my accent. I have my money on ‘middle-aged American woman who for some obscure reason pronounces some words with a slightly Irish accent’, but that’s just a wild guess.